A Compliment with Qualifications (or “You’re Really Talented… with Wood!”)

I think I received a compliment today—sort of.

My administrative assistant saw the photo of my recently finished Wooden Witch project (referenced in an earlier blog this week). She studied it for a second, nodded with genuine admiration, and said, “Wow, you’re really talented… with wood.”

And then came the pause.

That pause was so long and so pregnant it could’ve had twins. I stood there, unsure if I should say “thank you,” blush, or register it as a workplace hazard.

It got me thinking—some compliments sound generous at first… until you realize they come with qualifications. You know, the kind that start with hope and end with humility:

“You’re hilarious… for a principal.”
“You have a great face… for radio.”
“You’re in great shape… for a guy who treats steps as optional.”
“You’re tech-savvy… for someone who still prints emails.”
“You dance surprisingly well… for someone built like a refrigerator with knees.”
“You’re the healthiest patient I've ever had… for a short, fat, old guy with no joints!
“You have a good singing voice… for karaoke.”
“You’re handy… for someone who once glued their fingers together with Gorilla Glue.”
“You’ve got great style… for a man whose socks rarely match.”
“You’re really athletic… for an old guy.”
"You have the looks and charms of a Hollywood celebrity... like Danny DeVito."

You see the pattern. Compliments with footnotes. Encouragements with ellipses.

And while I could’ve taken offense, I didn’t. In education (and life), you learn to take your praise where you can find it—even if it’s wrapped in qualifiers and delivered with a wink.

So yes, I’ll proudly own the title: Talented… with wood. It beats “adequate with spreadsheets” or “passable with people.”

And if this reputation sticks, I might just carve myself a wooden sign that says:
“Compliments accepted—qualifiers optional.”

Signed, your principal who’s apparently “talented… with qualifiers,” still trying to turn awkward moments into teachable (and laughable) ones.

Comments

Inclusion - Giving Students What They Need to Succeed

I officially surrendered my man card the day I said, “I do,” back in 1987. Apparently, there are no returns. Yesterday I wept in my office. Not the dignified, single-tear kind of weeping. I’m talking full-on, reach-for-the-Kleenex, thank-God-the-door-is-closed weeping. We had just told a parent—whose child is on the spectrum—that we believe in her son, and we want him to stay at our school. Those words cost us something. They cost planning. They cost resources. They cost energy. But they didn’t cost us our mission. And here’s the irony: this conversation came on the heels of another one where I had to tell a “potential family” that we didn’t believe our school was the right fit for their children. Same day. Same office. Same principal. Two completely different outcomes. If you’ve ever wondered whether there’s an internal battle between a principal’s head and heart, let me assure you—it’s not theoretical. It’s daily. And sometimes it’s exhausting. Like most of my blogs, there’s a b...

On Humanity, Rumor, and the Discipline of Decency

Every so often, the world reminds us, sometimes gently, sometimes with a jolt, that God’s plan for us still runs through the old, unfashionable virtues: love, charity, humility, friendship. Not as slogans. As practices. Lately, the reminder hasn’t come through a clear, verified tragedy so much as through the way we react to rumor, outrage, and one another. In an age where headlines race ahead of facts and partisanship outpaces compassion, the simplest test of our humanity may be this: Do we refuse to cheer the suffering, real or rumored, of those we disagree with? I think about friendship across differences. Actor James Woods once said of director Rob Reiner that political differences never stood in the way of their love and respect for each other. Reiner fought for Woods when others wouldn’t. They worked together. They remained friends. That’s how it is in the real world, or at least how it should be. You don’t have to agree to stay human. I also think about families who live with add...

Reigniting the Fire: From Embers to Flame

There’s a moment in an interview with Michael Franti that’s stayed with me. He spoke about how a roaring fire, once reduced to embers, doesn’t need much to come alive again, just a gentle breath, a little attention, a whisper of wind. And suddenly, the flame returns. That image, embers waiting patiently for someone to believe in their potential, feels deeply personal. Franti once said, “I think of love as an action. Finding something that’s outside of yourself, to serve someone else’s soul, helping to ignite someone else’s spirit, to bring about ease of heart and joy, serenity in somebody else.” That quote reminds me that reigniting a fire, whether in us or in others, is about connection. It’s about showing up, listening, and offering warmth when someone feels cold inside. Not long ago, I found myself in a place I never expected to be. The fire inside me had dimmed. Life hadn’t knocked me down in one dramatic blow; it had chipped away, little by little. Leadership challen...

The Ex4mined L1fe

Search This Blog